The last Tango

The polished floor, the shining gilded mirrors,
Strange shadows sway around the ballroom’s walls.
We dance the tango and our steps appear
To glide in unison to rhythm that enthralls.

Step. Turn and dip, we weave together,
Rapture and wisdom in these moves disguised.
I can predict your thoughts, our minds are tethered,
But only in the dance, not in our daily lives.

An eager pupil, I know no restraining,
I hurry, blushing when I fumble feet.
Upon mistakes will tango have its training...
Lost it again... And back into the beat.

Your open neck is wreathed by sparkling pearls,
The arches of your feet crown velvet heels.
The shimmer of the dress around you swirls,
But in this dance the most important are the eyes.

Within them, mystery of tango ‘s burning,
The mystery that we have shared tonight.
In mine - the barely-hid yearning.
In yours - desire to take flight.

The music’s winding down, and your eyes fill
With tears. This dance will be our last.
With the last tango, as in Paris, will
Depart the love that has long passed.

The polished floor, the shining gilded mirrors,
The shadows tire of ballroom’s walls.
We danced the tango and our steps appeared
To fool ourselves that happiness enthralls.

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